


Red

by Anarhichas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bloodplay, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1797463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarhichas/pseuds/Anarhichas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘It hurts,’ Armin said, and took a deep breath. The motion created a new incline, and the little pool of blood trickled down his side and onto the sheets. ‘Not much, though. It’s warm. Away from the actual cut, it mostly tickles.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> For the Rivarmin Fest – prompt: Red.
> 
> Any concrit is more than welcome. Thanks for reading!

Levi looked down at the small surgical kit he had placed on the bed: four scalpels of varying length, a pair of scissors, three curved needles, and a roll of bandages. The metal reflected the evening sun coming in through the window. He’d left the amputation saw, knives, forceps and tourniquet in the box on the floor, next to a basin of cold water.

He picked up one of the scalpels, the one with the shortest blade, and turned. From where he lay naked on the floor, on folded sheets taken from the infirmary, Armin blinked up at him. His arms lay relaxed, above his head, bound tight together and lashed to a foot of the bed.

‘You’re sure about this,’ Levi said, because the wooden handle of the scalpel felt abnormally solid in his hand. He was keenly aware of the edge of the blade in a way he hadn’t been for many, many years.

Armin nodded, short and quick motions, then added: ‘Yes.’ He sounded a lot more sure than when he’d first approached the topic.

Levi knelt down and placed a hand lightly on Armin’s outer thigh, skimming up from hip to waist to chest, feeling out the topography of scars. Most were small, the result of scrapes and cuts, and would disappear soon enough. Some were larger and coarse, from childhood, the evidence of open sores and rough treatment. Drawn between them were pale lines, wounds of a much more deliberate origin.

Not bothering to draw out the moment, Levi took the scalpel and with it, pressed down on an unmarked patch above Armin’s navel. The blade sliced easily, creating a small, neat line, just deep enough to part the skin. Levi took away the scalpel and watched as blood welled up, surface tension keeping it in a deep red, fat stripe, only spilling over after several long moments. It pooled in the dip between Armin’s abdominal muscles.

‘What does it feel like?’ Levi asked, as he pressed lightly on the flesh to one side of the cut, creating a dip for the blood to dribble into. He withdrew his hand before it could get onto his fingertips.

Throughout this Armin hadn’t moved at all, other than the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. His eyes were closed. At Levi’s question he shifted his head slightly, rearranging his arms within the small limits that the rope allowed him.

‘It hurts,’ he said, and took a deep breath. The motion created a new incline, and the little pool of blood trickled down his side and onto the sheets. ‘Not much, though. It’s warm. Away from the actual cut, it mostly tickles.’

Levi hummed in acknowledgement. Where it was soaking into the sheets, a small patch not much larger than a thumbnail, the blood was an almost orange colour, vivid but flat on the mottled off-white fabric. On Armin’s skin it was richer, three-dimensional, like thick twine where it dribbled, and melted wax in the puddles.

He placed the scalpel a couple of centimetres above the first cut, and drew a second. It was longer, a little deeper, and the blood welled up faster. Armin’s breath hitched then smoothed out.

‘Too much?’ Levi asked, his hand not holding the scalpel trailing down to Armin’s inner thigh, to stroke the soft skin there with his thumb.

‘No… no,’ Armin said, after a beat of silence and a sigh. His eyes were still closed. ‘It’s good. Thank you.’

The blood from the second cut had merged into that of the first, and together they had pooled into Armin’s navel. After a moment of watching it gather, Levi pressed at Armin’s waist, causing the blood to trickle down his side rather then into his brown pubic hair.

It was strangely fascinating, though it shouldn’t be, Levi thought. He’d seen enough of the stuff in his lifetime to make it as normal as water – but to be the one to tease it out, drop by drop from a willing, trusting body, had cast it differently. He was glad he’d had the foresight of opening the window, even so. The warm, pollen filled breeze from outside swept away the cloying smell.

Levi sat back on his heels, then got up. He washed the scalpel, dried it, and put it away.

‘Are you done?’ Armin asked, motionless on the floor, still blinding himself with closed eyes. His voice held a strange note Levi couldn’t place.

‘No,’ Levi said. He picked up one of the curved needles, choosing the medium sized one for no particular reason, and returned to kneel back by Armin’s side. He waited.

‘Okay,’ Armin said, and shifted his head again, just slightly.

Avoiding the areas where there was already blood, and where any injury would be rubbed by the 3DM gear, Levi gently pinched the meat of Armin’s chest, just below his sternum. Then he pressed the needle into the flesh, deeper than the cuts had gone, and drew it out slowly, mimicking sewing. The needle wasn’t threaded, and only two round drops of blood at the points of entry and exit, a centimetre apart, were the evidence of the action.

The droplets swelled then spilt down Armin’s side, tracking the outline of his abdominals.

Levi watched them. Then he repeated the action: dipping the needle into Armin’s chest, pulling it out. At some point Armin’s legs had drawn themselves up: feet on the floor, bent at the knee, and Levi’s hands fell still. ‘Legs down,’ he said, and only continued after Armin had dropped them obediently.

Press the needle in, draw it out. The red colour and tackiness on his fingertips seemed to have made the process more real than it had been before, with the scalpel. Just why was he doing this? Levi knew that mostly everyone in the Scouting Legion had their issues, but he’d always made a point of minding his own damn business – unless it interfered with the soldier’s ability to fight, of course, in which case he’d beat it out of them. He didn’t get involved otherwise. He certainly didn’t facilitate it.

So what the fuck was he doing now? Neither of them were getting off on this. He doubted there was a good enough excuse out there to get him off the hook if they were caught.

‘It feels right,’ Armin had said with an air of uncertainty, back before they’d agreed to anything. He’d fumbled for his words uncharacteristically. ‘When it’s done, and I see it, it looks like it should be there. It hurts, but it should hurt. I can trust it to.’

Needle in, draw it out. Find a new spot, and do it again. The blood trails from the cuts had dried, dark reddish brown and flaking around the edges. It was a fresher, brighter colour at the source, though the bleeding itself had stopped. Levi slid the needle into Armin’s side, just below the ending of his ribcage, and left it there for a moment. The two ends poked out of the skin, a semi-circle with the middle obscured. Then he eased it out, and turning away, washed it and his red smeared fingers in the basin of water.

Cutting off a section of bandages, Levi wet it, wrung it out, and ran the material over Armin’s belly. The fabric went orange with diluted blood, so he rinsed it before continuing, running it over the trails and tracks he’d created, mopping them up to reveal clean skin again. Armin’s eyes opened for the first time since they’d began, and he let out a long, quiet breath.

When he was satisfied that the blood was all gone, Levi dropped the rag into the basin of water, and reached over and yanked undone the knot tying Armin’s wrists. Armin sat up, a little unsteadily, and touched at the longer cut, which had started to bleed again. Irritated for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint, Levi took away his hands and used a corner of the sheet to clean away the fresh blood. Before he could finish, Armin put his head down on Levi’s shoulder.

‘Thank you,’ he said, a tired whisper, his body a heavy and warm. The temptation to push him off flickered across the back of Levi’s mind, then faded. After a moment he put a hand on the back of Armin’s head, sinking his fingers into the thick, pale hair, and held him there gently.


End file.
